haste to thee."

LXI.

And thou _art_ mine, my love--my very own!
And none can sever us. I seem not yet
To realize that all my pain is gone.
'Tis hard such heavy sorrow to forget.
Ah, Love! what now can give us grief or pain?
And who shall part us when we meet again?

LXII.

I do not love the title, and would choose
To bear it not; but this may never be.
The baronet would doubtless then refuse
To let his daughter be a wife to me,
And loud invectives on my head would pour.
He loves her, but he loves a title more.

LXIII.

But 'tis not mine to judge the baronet,
E'en though he shaded all my brighter life;
My duty bids me all the past forget,
For he has given me a loving wife.
So be it mine all passions to control,
And speed me home to greet my soul's twin-soul.

LXIV.

Then, farewell, Canada! If I have been
O'erladen with a heavy-burdened heart,
While all thy many beauties I have seen;
And if my sorrow should a vein impart
Of sadness to my thoughts, or bitterness,
Oh, think not this can make me love thee less.

LXV.

Farewell, great Canada! And oh! forgive
An exiled Englishman if he esteem
His native country highest, and would live
By choice in England. Do not let it seem
That on thy charms he sets but little store;
He loves thee well, but must love England more.

* * * * *

As boldly on high ye rise to the sky,
Great mountains, my message convey,
And tell to the Heaven the joy that is given
To me and to mine to-day.

Ye tall, waving trees, tell ye to the breeze,
And bid it to bear away
Afar on its wing, the words that I bring:
"My love is my own to-day."

And you, little bird, your voice must be heard;
Hum out to the flow'rs my lay.
As o'er them you hover, oh! say that I love her,
And say she is mine to-day.

And, oh! pretty flowers, put forth all your powers,
And tell to the bees that stray
Your blossoms among, the words of my song:
Oh! tell of my joy to-day.

And ye, busy bees, give heed to my pleas,
My loving request obey;
As ye fly to and fro, let your fellows all know
The joy that is mine to-day.

Let Nature all see my joy, and for me
Her many-tongued pow'rs array,
And bid them rejoice, and sing with one voice,
Because of my joy to-day.

THE END.

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote A: The war of 1812-14.]

[Footnote B: The facts related in the followi